The rest of the ride was not noteworthy. We would have little skirmishes: asking me about myself but then not really following up in any meaningful way. I would, on the other hand, feel like I struck too deep when asking about one of them. They’d say I asked a ‘really interesting question’, flounder, then make some overly intellectual answer. They were tense. They couldn’t just let their mind run when I tried to interact with them. They kept trying to do what they thought would appease me, albeit they patronized me at the same time. I couldn’t find the key to get into their in-group.
As we left the station, I bumped into Anna to ask her a question. “How are you feeling? I know that looked hard, although I’m not as connected as you are with what happened,” I hoped she didn’t need clarification.
She bumped back into me. “I’m fine. I haven’t processed it yet. I’ll let you know if I need anything.” Something I can only interpret as closed off; at least I got something.
After stumbling around and trying to meet new people, I began to figure out what the plan was. ‘J’ group had been one of the main coordinators for the event. They had a few backup venues in case meeting all together would create too much commotion. Not everyone would meet in the same place, but there are a few couriers who would help keep records straight. Most groups would have different escape routes, though. After getting a basic idea of where we were being led, I returned back to Anna’s group, now in one piece.
Chatting lulled while we walked to our destination. One of Anna’s friends said I should keep going with my joke. I didn’t really want to be their little on-demand circus act. I was interested in continuing though, so I tried my best to continue what I left behind: “Alright. Alright. So, the conductor from earlier, right? He gets sent back out into the world- set free to do his chaotic will. The guy finds a much smaller train. Think of it like one of those super retro, proof-of-concept trains. He’s just enamored, absolutely seduced by these titans of steel. Can’t help himself, figures out a way to sneak in and operate it. He gets a guy to shovel in all the coal, and they go off and do their thing. Everything seems to be going good; they’re going up hills, they’re going down mountains, they’re making headway. But then, this conductor makes one small error, and, blam, collides with another train. His top guy barely survives; the passengers on the other train are widely injured, but this conductor comes out totally fine,” everyone once again turned their attention to me. They didn’t ask me to refresh them on what happened first, but whatever. I want to tell my joke.
“As you can imagine, he gets sent back to prison. Back to death’s row. Prison warden is not pleased. He says he’s really going to make this conductor pay the price this time, but because he’s fair and just, he gives him one last meal. So the conductor asks for a red banana. It’s a different season now, and these rare kinds of bananas can only be found on a particular island, nearly unnavigable by most standards. So the prison warden orders, like, one thousand of his biggest guys to find that banana. They do, but not before they get chewed up by evil person-liquifying-super hornets, oh, and like, killer snails. Only a few return, but they got his banana. The conductor is delighted, eats his favorite delicacy, and obliges in the death penalty. He gets hooked up to the super scary zillion-trillion-volt electric chair. They do the procedure. Super flashy, crazy, some of the spectators felt the static from across the room. They turn the chair off. The conductor is alive. Like, totally alive. The prison warden is astonished but says, ‘Well, surely that counts for a life sentence. I hope you’ve learned your lesson this time.’ And send the conductor on his way,” I was interrupted by a zombie alert.
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It’s not like they were paying attention anyway. I felt tired just trying to hold their attention like I was playing tug-of-war. Regardless, being put to work at least made use of me without needing to interact anymore. I offered to help, so a coordinator gave me a utility belt, a sort of trident, and gave me the rundown on where they wanted me.
We were put together in a relatively tight line. Zombies can’t really escape if there’s basically a meat grinder in front of them. Besides, no one turns into a zombie instantly; it’s not like it’d spread if one of us gets bit. Obviously, it wasn’t the safest maneuver in the world, but I was fine with it being the best they had in mind. A plan is better than no plan at all.
…
After it was over, one of them asked if I was alright. Apparently, I had an awful scowl on. Although I knew I wasn’t smiling or anything, the zombies produced a form of disgust that I didn’t want to get in me. I decided not to explain and just reassured them I was uninjured. I decided to stay on guard duty.
We were led through backroads and small alleyways, but I could see what central looked like. First, how it should look. This is where most of the taller buildings were, from what I saw. Would I call them skyscrapers? Eh. If they don’t really scrape the sky, can you really give them such an honorific title? They had the same shape, though. Some were shaped like geometric corn, partially enclosed by salt windows, and partially by sand-like concrete. There was one building that appeared to have antennas. A few other buildings had rectangular rooftops. I’m sure the view must be lovely looking below, for anyone other than me. I didn’t really see anything made of a unique material while looking to the sky.
Ground level was a different and more exciting story. There were dozens of small buildings tacked on, stacked on, and, and, I can’t think of another word that rhymes with the other two. But that was my level of fascination- going beyond words with the intricacy of shapes there were. There were small bridges to cross between second and third-story entrance buildings. There were man-made tunnels between two buildings facing away from each other. Some apartments appeared to settle next to shops. Many of the buildings were blocky, but some, that did not have doors, were shaped like brick igloos. Some had the little bricks line the rooftops you’d see on castles. Awnings often came in warm colors.
The washed-out, orangish cobblestone roads changed elevation unrestrictedly. The roads looked somewhat organized, or the coordinators were just really good at directions. I’m not sure. Side streets had softened, sandy bricks and large roads that medium roads dump people onto tended to be large slabs of rough orange concrete.
Business, had it not been for the abundance of zombies, looked like you could find it all here. I see clothing stores, clothing stores, clothing stores…restaurants. Maybe business was less diverse than I thought. The various brandings looked like they came together to create a unified canvas, with logos coming in browns, maroons, oranges, yellows, and such. The brands, on their own, were very uninteresting.
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